The Falador Massacre  A Survivor's Story
by CatzRuleMe
Summary: The Falador massacre has become known as one of the darkset days in RuneScape. Listen to one survivor's story about what happened. Rated T for violence.


The air thickens tensely every time I set foot on that cobblestone road. Actually, it's not the cobblestone in particular that bothers me; only near Falador do my bones grow shaky and my muscles tense, as if the fight is still happening. And today I feel extra nervous; it's June 6, the memorial day of those killed during the mindless slaughtering of the Falador Massacre.

My heart melts both in grief and in sympathy as several players lay flowers at the entrance to the huge city. One look at the sadness in their faces tells me that loved ones had been lost that horrid day. I feel lucky to have survived, but I was marked with an emotional scar that would last the rest of my life, a scar much deeper than the one on my left arm. Nonetheless, I know that things could have been worse. If those Mods hadn't saved me, I could have died.

The nightmare started back on June 6, 2006. The Construction skill had recently been discovered, and it became the hottest thing in all of RuneScape. Everyone was excited by the idea of owning their own property and customizing it to their liking. The popularity was to the point where every newspaper in Gielinor announced that an individual named Cursed You had just conquered the skill, and was hosting a party at his house to celebrate.

I was intrigued; I had always wanted to see what kinds of things I could put in my house if I mastered the skill. On the day of the party, I made my way south of Falador to Rimmington. A portal stood glowing brightly with many excited people gathered around. The eager partygoers hopped through the portal to Cursed You's house, and I followed among the crowd.

I glanced from side to side, my jaw hanging in awe at the enormous house that I was standing in. My own house was nothing more than a parlor with a small rundown kitchen, so I was amazed at what one could really do with a vast amount of experience in Construction.

"So, what do you think?"

I whirled around to see a large man looking at me. At first I didn't know who he was, but then I noticed that he was proudly wearing a cape with the symbol of a saw cutting into wood, and knew right away that it was the skillcape for Construction.

"Are you Cursed You?" I asked. When the man nodded, I answered his question. "This place is amazing! When I go home and see my tiny house, I think I'm going to cry."

Cursed You chuckled, then assured: "You'll have a house like mine one day. Just keep at it and eventually you will master the skill too. Well, enjoy the party!" The man nodded farewell, then went off to greet some guests who had just come in.

I noticed a lot of people heading towards a trapdoor in the throne room. Curious, I climbed down the ladder into what looked like a dungeon. After a few minutes of wandering, I came across a combat ring, where people were dueling and showing off their strength without putting anyone's life in danger. This room had interested me since the dawn of Construction so I just had to check it out.

The party was in full swing, and it seemed to get really crowded. It felt as if a thousand people and counting had squeezed their way into the combat ring. I could barely breathe, but there was no room for me to squeeze my way to the edge.

Suddenly, Cursed You's demon butler climbed down the ladder and stepped into the combat ring, announcing: "Attention everyone! I am sorry to report that there are too many people in here and that it is too crowded. Cursed You will be booting everyone out in a few seconds."

As murmurs of confusion spread about the combat ring, I felt a jolt. My vision blurred and became white, and I felt as if I were being electrocuted. For a split second I started to panic, but suddenly my vision cleared and my body relaxed. I was back outside in Rimmington, next to the purple portal. But something had changed. I felt enhanced by a dark power of some sort, and the air was thick with tension.

"Hey, guys! Check this out!"

The sudden rusty smell made my head spin, and I looked over to see a guy with a fire cape standing over the dead body of another person. The unfortunate individual lay limp and soaked in his own blood, and the mere sight made me want to vomit.

"Whoa, that's cool, Durial321!" someone exclaimed. "How did you do that?"

How _did_ he do that, I wondered. Usually people were physically unable to kill other people unless in the Wilderness. What had gone wrong? Did Cursed You kicking everyone out of his house have something to do with it?

"I don't know how I did it," Durial321 replied, "but this could be a real moneymaker!"

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell the J-Mods about this?" someone else asked.

"Are you kidding!" Durial321 shouted. "And put this awesome opportunity to waste? We can make billions in seconds this way! Look!"

Where a corpse once lay, there was now the hugest pile of money I had ever seen, along with a few pieces of dragon armor. Durial321 stuffed them all in his backpack.

"He's right, guys," I heard someone say. "This could be so convenient! Lead the way, Durial321!"

Before I could process what had happened, the man in the fire cape had led the way to Falador. The reek of blood grew stronger, stinging my nostrils and stirring my stomach. I couldn't just stand and let this happen; I had to at least make an attempt to stop the sudden greed-driven madness.

I sprinted across the cobblestone road, ducking and weaving through swords, battle spells and arrows. I noticed uniformed people running frantically about, trying to control the unruly and confusing situation. There was no mistaking the silver, crown-shaped badges on their chests; they were Player Mods.

"Bank your items!" one cried amongst the howling of Durial321 and his attackers and the screaming of scared players who didn't know what was going on. "Everybody to the bank! Keep your valuables safe!"

"Don't encourage him!" another Mod yelled. "If you value your life, run!"

"Everybody watch your health!" shouted another uniformed person.

But the Mods were unheard; blood continued to spill and items were bagged ravenously. It was obvious that only J-Mods could bring this monstrous a crime to justice. Where were they?

I spotted Durial321's bright fire cape and made a beeline for the leader. "Durial321, are you mad? Stop this now!"

The man turned toward me with a raised eyebrow. "Stupid noob, don't you see what you can get from this? These people have boatloads of money with them! Do you think I'm just going to back down?"

"This is so wrong," I told him. "You're killing innocent people for a few coins! What about when the J-Mods find out about this?"

"I'll be long gone by then," Durial321 answered. "Now shut up and let me make some money. In fact, let's see what you've got in _your_ backpack…"

My stomach dropped as Durial321 raised his sword. I jumped back and blocked with my left arm, but the crazed murderer managed to slash my arm wide open. Blood poured out of the gash, and the man raised his sword again for the final blow.

Durial321 was knocked out of the way, and I was pulled to my feet by a Player Mod. As he held me to keep me steady, he yelled: "I got a survivor here!"

Several more Mods huddled around me and quickly tried to escort me away from the bloodbath, occasionally shouting: "Bank your items!" or "Everybody watch your health!"

I was set on the soft grass far from Falador, where the rusty blood smell was fainter. The Mods examined my arm carefully, trying not to inflict any more pain onto it. One Mod encouraged me to eat a monkfish to help it heal, and finally he asked the question. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," I replied. "But I don't understand…the fighting…the killing…where are the J-Mods?"

"I don't know," the Player Mod admitted. "We contacted them, but it could be a while before they realize what's going on."

I was suddenly terrified. Durial321 obviously would keep going until he'd killed everyone in RuneScape. What if the J-Mods arrived too late?

I swallowed a foul wad of vomit, trying to push those thoughts away. Some of the Mods who had come to my aid had gone back to the blood-stained entrance to Falador and continued to alert incoming people to the danger ahead.

I noticed that my arm was starting to heal; it had stopped bleeding, and my flesh was slowly pulling its way back together. But I could only feel bad for those who wouldn't heal, because Durial321 had killed them and bagged their personal belongings like it was nothing.

A she-Mod came running over to where I lay and several other Mods stood guarding me. "Guys, I have some bad news."

"What is it?" another Mod asked.

"Durial321 is taking his massacre north," the woman explained. "If they reach Edgeville, they'll kill the Alchers and steal even more money!"

One Player Mod bowed his head in defeat. "Oh, where are the J-Mods?

"I've got to stop Durial321," I decided. "I _have_ to make him see reason; this is wrong, and he knows it."

"Hold on," the she-Mod interrupted. "It's dangerous over there; you'll get yourself killed. And how do you think you can stop Durial321? Just look at what he did to your arm!"

I looked down at my arm, which had a fresh scar running all the way from my wrist to my elbow. It looked like it would never heal, but I was not about to let it get me intimidated by a brute like Durial321.

"This can't go on," I explained, pushing myself to a stand. "The J-Mods aren't here yet, if they'll ever come. I have to do something…_anything_…to stop this insanity." I bolted for the Falador entrance before the Mods could argue.

I caught the last glimpse of infected murderers disappearing out the northwest entrance. Sheer determination drove me forward, and wove me once again through the crazed killers until I reached Durial321 at the entrance to Edgeville.

"Durial321!" I screamed right as the madman was about to kill a frightened Alcher counting his money. "Durial321, this has to stop!"

Durial321 turned towards me and rolled his eyes. "Jeez, you sound just like the Mods. Look noob, if you at least tried this, you could make millions." Suddenly, the evil man's face grew sinister. "But sadly, you'll never know what that's like."

I grunted as Durial321 whacked me in the head with his shield and knocked me to the ground. For a second grueling moment, I saw Durial321's sword above me, gleaming in the sunlight. For the second time in the same hour, it felt like the end.

"Stop!"

Just like before, I was saved by uniformed men. But rather than merely knocking Durial321 out of the way, the Mods thrust him to the ground and tried to restrain him. And the crown-shaped badges upon their chests weren't silver, but gold.

I gasped, half in shock, half in relief. My saviors were J-Mods.

Durial321 spit and cursed and yowled under the unmoving Mods. He looked frighteningly like a wild animal, snarling and thrashing about. But the unforgiving J-Mods didn't flinch as they cuffed him and led them away. I looked around to see other J-Mods arresting some of the madman's followers. The bloodbath was over.

I never knew where they took Durial321, or what became of him. The J-Mods have reportedly banished him from RuneScape forever, but did that mean that he posed a threat outside of RuneScape? Was he still capable of murder, even if he's so far away?

I shake my head. I shouldn't think such thoughts; at least RuneScape is safe again. As I look around the vast field of flowers flooding the walkway, I smile gratefully at the people who make their donation to the lot. Some of them smile back, and I know they see the sympathy in my eyes.

I look down at my own contribution—the most beautiful and colorful flowers I could find. Nobody I knew personally had died in the killings, but I still grieve for those that the Mods hadn't gotten to on time. Without knowing them, I love and miss them with all my heart. As I lay the flowers in an empty spot among the rest, I am reminded yet again of the mindless slaughtering. Every drop of blood, every fallen body, every triumphant howl echoes in my memory as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. It's been years since the attack, and still a day seldom passes that I don't remember what has become known as the Falador Massacre.


End file.
